Tell on You

  “But—how do you know?”

  “Because I called Heather this morning to check it out.”

  “Called Heather?” he echoed in bewilderment. “Why?”

  “Jeremy!” She might as well have said duh! in front of his name. “Don’t you see? Someone took that sheet to get Heather’s signature.”

  “That’s…that’s pretty far-fetched, don’t you think?”

  Marge’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Far-fetched? What’s far-fetched is the notion that Heather set herself up for ridicule and suspension. I told you yesterday that her signature on that note was a forgery. Jeremy, this can’t be a coincidence.”

  A rushing sensation filled his ears, like sinking into cold water. A long line of people awaited his restitution. Melissa. Heather. Nikki. Too many. He’d never make it right.

  “What?” he croaked, “do you propose to do about it?”

  “Talk to Donnelly, of course.”

  Of course. Marge would never sit by for an injustice. And what about him? Jeremy quailed at the prospect of facing Donnelly after the principal’s warning.

  “Come with me?” Marge asked.

  Do it. Step up. But to what end? His presence was bound to trigger Donnelly, maybe make things worse for Heather. Marge would do a better job of it without him. And he had Nikki to deal with. One crisis at a time.

  Jeremy shook his head. “No, you go ahead. There’s nothing for me to add to the discussion.”

  Marge stared at him for a silent moment and walked out.

  THIRTY EIGHT

  MELISSA RAN THE VACUUM cleaner back and forth across the living room carpet, frowning. The bag needed changing, and she didn’t have another. Rick’s surprise visit the previous day had prodded her into a burst of tidying. He’d hinted he’d drop over to say goodbye on his way to the airport, and she wanted to make a better impression this time. Despite her reassurances to Jeremy last night, Melissa realized how their cramped quarters must look to the owner of a house in Newport Beach. She hoped that tossing out a stack of old magazines and picking up piles of dirty clothes might make the place more presentable.

  As she turned off the vacuum cleaner, Melissa’s phone bleated out a text from her father.

  Call me.

  She did. “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Are you at home?”

  “Ye—es.” His somber tone unnerved her.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. Daddy, what’s—?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Melissa unplugged the vacuum cleaner and stashed it on the floor of the coat closet. She glanced around the living room, which looked a little better. Fluffing a throw pillow, she heard the downstairs doorbell and buzzed her father into the building. His heavy tread mounting the stairs made her uneasy. She opened the door, reading trouble in the pinched lines of his face and grim set of his jaw.

  “Dad? What is it?”

  “Sit down.” He steered her to the couch.

  “What’s happened?” They sat. “Is Mom all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Her father pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. He started to place it on the coffee table, then drew back his hand, holding the envelope in his lap. “Sweetheart…”

  “Dad?” The tiny hairs on the back of Melissa’s neck prickled.

  “You know that your mother and I love you,” he said. “And anything we do is out of concern for your well-being.” His gaze bored into her. “And now, the baby’s.”

  “For god’s sake, Dad! What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry.” He passed her the envelope.

  THE DAY SPED BY for Jeremy, dreading his confrontation with Nikki. His last period had now ended. Another hour and it would be time to drive to the park. Should he even go? Why meet her, only to say he wouldn’t meet her anymore? And suppose he lost his nerve, couldn’t bring himself to tell her? He’d be tempting fate to keep this rendezvous.

  But he had to go.

  He needed to say the words of farewell, needed the finality of that. And Nikki needed to hear them. He owed her an explanation for no more golden afternoons, no more secret glances exchanged in the halls.

  No more dreams, at least not for him. Nikki had a lifetime of dreams ahead of her. But at least he’d spare her from wondering or doubting herself. He owed her that.

  Owed Melissa so much more.

  Jeremy headed for his office, resolved. He’d go. He’d end it. Begin to make things right.

  THE FIRST PHOTO MADE Melissa gasp. Her hands shook as she leafed through the rest, the images blurring as tears flooded her eyes.

  “I don’t understand. Who took these?” Her voice broke. “Who is that girl?”

  Her father’s hand squeezed her shoulder, and she smelled the familiar scent of his aftershave as he leaned toward her. Cried harder.

  “They were shot by a private investigator who works for Peter Winkelman.”

  “That—lawyer?”

  “His investigator submitted a report.” Her father’s voice so calm as he blew her world to smithereens. “The girl is one of Jeremy’s students. Her name is—”

  “I don’t want to know her name!” Melissa sobbed, raising her hands to her tear-drenched eyes. “I don’t understand. Why did Winkelman put a detective on Jeremy?”

  “Because I told him to.” Her father’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. When that girl accused him, I said to myself—”

  “Her?” Melissa lowered her hands, eyes darting from her father to the photos, and back again. “But—she recanted. Are you telling me—?”

  “Honey.” Howard brushed aside a damp tendril of Melissa’s dark hair. “It’s a different girl.”

  Melissa squinted, trying to work it out. A different girl? There were two?

  “He’s been meeting her after school.” Her father reached for the stack of photos, leafed through them and passed some back to her. “These were taken at the reservation.”

  Melissa forced herself to look at the snapshots, taking in more of the details this time. The grin on Jeremy’s face. The girl’s shiny black hair. She felt sick.

  Her father passed her more of the photos. “They only went there that one time. Usually they meet at this park, a few blocks from the school. Around four in the afternoon.”

  Without wanting to, Melissa tried to recall what she usually did at four, used to do when her world was still intact.

  “Melissa.” Her father’s voice gentle, yet carrying its inevitable authority. “Why don’t you pack a bag now and come home with me? We’ll arrange to get the rest of your things later.”

  “Home?” She blinked at him.

  “Back to the house. You don’t need to stay in this crappy apartment now.” Melissa shook herself, as if breaking free of cobwebs. Where was home? Where did she belong? She lowered her gaze to the threadbare carpet, to her father’s well-polished shoes.

  “You did this.” Her eyes rose to meet Howard’s. “You did all this without asking me.” She glared at him. “You and that lousy lawyer.” Her voice rose. “You had no right.”

  “Melissa.” Like he was reasoning with an unruly child. “You’re upset. When you’ve had a chance to think, you’ll see that it’s best for you and the child if—”

  “But you had no right!” Her voice shrill now, edged with hysteria.

  Her father scowled. “Be realistic. He was never good enough.”

  On her feet now, Melissa’s hands clenched into fists. “Get out!”

  Howard Milton stood, reaching toward his daughter. “Sweetheart—”

  She shook him off. “Get Out Of My HOUSE!!”

  He took a step back, hands raised in surrender. “All right, all right. Look, I’ll send your mother over. Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Melissa. He isn’t worth it.”

  “GO!” she screamed so loudly that her throat hurt.

  He went.

  In her newly vacuumed, unusually neat living room, Melissa wept, her wet fi
ngers groping the terrible photos. Usually they meet at this park. Around four.

  Around now.

  She scooped up the pictures and stuffed them back into the envelope, on her way there.

  THIRTY NINE

  JEREMY GOT OUT OF the car and walked slowly into the park, head lowered.

  The last time.

  He raised his eyes to look around for other visitors, saw none. His gaze traveled from the patchy grass up to the bare tree branches. A few more weeks and buds would appear there. Green shoots would spring from the ground. He might have shared that with Nikki.

  He swallowed his sorrow, determined to go through with this.

  And there was Nikki, waiting at their regular bench. He drank in the look of her—the slender frame, that dark, glossy hair. He stopped to savor the sight of her sitting there, waiting for him. That exquisite creature, waiting for him! And once she turned and saw him, the beginning of the end.

  She did turn, smiled. Jeremy’s heart ached. He wouldn’t see that smile anymore.

  MELISSA DROVE WILDLY.

  She sped through a traffic light, ignoring the angry blasts of horns around her, hands cold and clammy on the steering wheel. So shaky she feared they’d slip off. She tightened her grip.

  Where? Where was this park?

  Near the Forrest School, she knew. Melissa drove on, far too upset to consider stopping, asking someone. Did this park have a name? No matter. If it was near the school, she’d find it, drive around until she did.

  Her foot pressed down on the accelerator.

  NIKKI RUSHED INTO HIS arms and Jeremy tensed, determined not to return her embrace.

  She edged back, scanning his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He offered up an awkward smile, but her narrowed eyes told him she didn’t buy it. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just—we have to talk.”

  “Ok-aay.” Her expression brightened. “Why don’t we go back to that neat place at the Watchung reservation and talk there?”

  Why not? One last time. Tell her there. But, no. Too foolhardy. “It’s better if we talk here.” He led her to the bench.

  “Mr. B?” Nikki sounded wary. “Has something happened?”

  “No. Well, yes.”

  “What—?”

  “Sit down.” Jeremy sank onto the bench.

  She sat beside him, eying him anxiously. A small furrow formed on her forehead, between those crystal blue eyes.

  “I—Nikki, we can’t do this anymore.” He barely got out the words through the tightness in his throat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We can’t meet like this—outside of school.”

  Nikki stared at him, open-mouthed. “But—why? I count on you so much. Don’t you care about me anymore?”

  Jeremy reached toward her, then dropped his hand to his lap. “It’s not that, Nikki. You’ll always be—special—to me.” How special, she’d never know. He remembered his foolish attempt to capture her in poetry, deleted now. All over.

  “Then why won’t you see me?”

  “Because my wife is having a baby.” He hadn’t planned to say that. Hadn’t a clue what to tell her.

  Nikki stared, as if he’d grown horns. “What does that have to do with us?”

  Jeremy gaped. He’d assumed she’d give up. It dawned on him that this might prove even harder than he’d anticipated. “Nikki…”

  “It’s not like I expected to get married, or anything.” A note of petulance crept into her voice. “So you’re having a kid. So, congratulations.”

  “You don’t understand. My wife, Melissa—” He swallowed. “She needs me.”

  Nikki got up from the bench and glared down at him. “What if I need you, too?”

  UP AND DOWN THE streets Melissa drove, in a widening circuit from the Forrest School. No students around. The school day had ended and they’d gone—to expensive homes, or the mall, or wherever kids went in this affluent suburb.

  Except the one in that park with her husband.

  Where?

  Near the school, her father had said. She turned the wrong way onto a one-way street, braked hard. The envelope of photos flew off the passenger seat, onto the floor of the car. Cursing, Melissa barreled ahead and made the next right turn.

  And there was Jeremy’s car. On the street, next to a wooded area.

  The park.

  She pulled in behind the Honda, killed the engine. With trembling hands, Melissa undid her seatbelt, bent over to collect the photographs from the floor. A few had fallen out of the envelope and she shoved them back in. A full deck.

  She got out of her car.

  A path led between the trees and Melissa followed it. She heard voices as she approached. Jeremy’s voice:

  “I’ll always care for you, Nikki.”

  FORTY

  “I’LL ALWAYS CARE FOR you, Nikki. But be realistic.” Jeremy kept his tone light to cover his growing anxiety. Much as he’d dreaded ending it with Nikki, it never occurred to him she might have other ideas. “You’ll have plenty of boyfriends, believe me,” he assured her. “You don’t need a decrepit old guy like me.”

  Nikki’s blue eyes glittered with amusement.

  It wasn’t all that funny. Why look at him that way? Again, a joke Jeremy didn’t get.

  “You’re not so—” Nikki’s gaze suddenly skittered off over Jeremy’s shoulder. He turned to see what had diverted her.

  “You bastard!”

  “Melissa!” A wave of vertigo swept over him, as if he were on deck in a hurricane. “Wha—what are you doing here?” His eyes dropped from her furious face to the envelope clutched in her hands.

  “Catching you red-handed, you shit!” Melissa glanced over at Nikki, glared at Jeremy again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He mentally replayed his exchange with Nikki, trying to reconstruct what Melissa had overheard. “I was just—”

  “Liar! I know what you’ve been doing.” Melissa pulled a handful of photos from the envelope and threw them at his face.

  “Oww!” Jeremy lurched backwards as the sharp edge of a snapshot clipped him square in the eye. The photographs scattered at his feet. Holding a hand over his streaming eye, he squinted down at them. “Oh, shit.” The Camry!

  “Damn you!” Melissa sobbed. “You said you’d be here for me and the baby!”

  Nikki tittered. “Congratulations.”

  Melissa gasped as if she’d been punched. She and Jeremy both whirled and stared at Nikki, who grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  “You must be very happy,” Nikki said.

  A low growl from Melissa made Jeremy turn back to her. All the color had leached out of her face.

  “You little bitch!” Snarling, she lunged at Nikki.

  “No!” Jeremy threw his arms around his wife. “Nikki!” he shouted. “For god’s sake, get out of here!”

  He heard her tinkling laughter, her retreating footsteps.

  “You, you—!” Melissa strained toward Nikki, struggling against Jeremy’s hold.

  “Please,” he begged. “Let’s go home and talk about this.”

  Melissa went limp, sagging in his arms and weeping like a lost child. “How could you?”

  “I didn’t! I swear. Nothing happened. Anyway, it’s over.” Too late, Jeremy realized how incriminating that sounded.

  “You miserable fuck!” Melissa wrenched free of his grasp and shoved him away. “We’re finished! I’m going home and changing the locks. Go get a room at the Meadowview Inn, or sleep in your goddamned car, or—or go stay with your little tramp!” A stinging slap to Jeremy’s cheek, right below his bruised eye, punctuated her last word.

  “Oww!” he bleated. “Melissa, wait!”

  She ran out of the park.

  “Please!” He sped after her.

  FROM HER VANTAGE POINT behind a tree, Nikki smiled as they rushed past. Marital breakup as spectator sport. She ambled along after them, far enough to observe Melissa get into a Ford Escape parked in front of Jeremy’s Hon
da and slam the door, narrowly missing his fingers.

  “Ouch.” She clucked her tongue. “Looks like Mr. B is having a tough day.”

  Shaking her head, Nikki strolled back to the bench and knelt to collect the photos strewn on the ground. She sifted through them, nodding in appreciation.

  Nice. Especially this one.

  She slid the trophy into her jacket pocket, moments before Jeremy returned. Smiling, Nikki held out the stack of photographs to him. “Thought you might want these.”

  He took the pictures, nodded mutely, then turned and headed back toward his car, head down, shoulders hunched.

  Like a decrepit old guy.

  “See you, Mr. B,” Nikki crowed.

  FORTY ONE

  IN HOT PURSUIT, JEREMY made it to the apartment in time to see Melissa go inside. He jumped out of the Honda and tore up the stairs, reaching the top as she slammed the door. The chain rattled inside and he muttered a curse.

  “Melissa!” He pounded on the door.

  “Go away!”

  “Come on,” he pleaded. “Can’t we talk about it like adults?”

  “Adults?”

  Bad word choice. Jeremy rested his forehead against the closed door. “Melissa, I know I fucked up.”

  “Go to hell!”

  He sighed. “All right. Look, I’ll go to the motel, okay? Can I at least come in for ten minutes to pack a bag? I need a change of clothes for work.”

  Silence, followed by the sound of the chain sliding free.

  Cautiously, Jeremy opened the door, checking to make sure Melissa wasn’t poised to whack him in the face with a cast iron skillet.

  She sat on the sofa, arms folded, face a mask of fury.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll go throw some things in a bag.”

  No reply.

  In the bedroom, Jeremy considered the luggage collection on the top shelf of the closet and pulled down an overnight bag. Filling a larger suitcase signaled surrender. As he stuffed in socks and underwear, Melissa’s feet rustled across the carpet. He looked up, hopeful.

  She glared from the doorway. “So how long have you been a pedophile?” Her voice dripped with disgust.